


Running

by BulletTimeScully



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletTimeScully/pseuds/BulletTimeScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hold the light my love<br/>Hold the light my love<br/>Could you take enough<br/>Hold the light my love<br/>You know<br/>I’m done<br/>And I’m doomed…</p>
<p>~ Delta Spirit, “Running”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running

  
_Hold the light my love_  
Hold the light my love  
Could you take enough  
Hold the light my love  
You know  
I’m done  
And I’m doomed… 

~ Delta Spirit, “Running”

The road passed beneath them, mile after mile of cracked, forgotten highway littered with the detritus and decay of days gone by. The vibration of the motorcycle rolled through her, drowning out all other sound and making her legs go numb. She clung tight to his waist, her face pressed to the tattered wings on his back, her hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt as he pushed the old Triumph to its limits.

The sun was setting in the west. A warm fog had started to roll in over the fields and woods, covering everything in an eerie haze. It was getting dark, and much more dangerous… fast. They’d have to stop soon… for shelter, rest, food, fuel. They were running on instinct… had been for weeks now, since losing the others… 

The first stop had been a rusty yellow car with a faded shoe-polish name on the windshield. For two days they’d lingered there on the highway; two days of hiding, two days of wondering whether their friends – their family – were still alive. On the morning of the third day, they decided to move on. They left a message as best they could: a piece of red rag tied to the antenna of the car. 

She had only looked back once as they drove away. 

Now, she felt the bike switch gears as it slowed. She lifted her face and looked over his shoulder. They were pulling into an abandoned motel parking lot. She sat up straight, eyes searching the area for any threat as Daryl drove slowly around the piles of garbage littering the asphalt. There was nothing in her line of sight, but that meant little these days.  
Her hands slipped easily to his hips as the bike finally rolled slowly to a halt. She put her feet down like she had learned early on, helping steady the machine until Daryl could get the kickstand down. He then offered his hand to help her off, giving it a squeeze before grabbing his bow and loading it before moving off for a quick once over. 

Carol fell in behind him, pulling her machete from its sheath while making sure her pistol was loose in its holster; a last resort, but still… They moved together, him on point, her watching the rear. It was unspoken between them, like so much else. When the area was deemed clear, they moved back to the bike. Daryl pushed it behind the overgrown shrubs lining the walk, and after securing another piece of red rag near the road, cautiously opened the door to Room 12, bow raised. It was surprisingly untouched, if a little dusty and worn. Daryl checked beneath the beds while Carol checked the bathroom. When they each nodded an all clear, they brought in their bags, and he shut the door and set his bow down against the wall. 

The room held two double beds, a dresser with an ancient rabbit-eared television on top of it, a small table, and two moth-eaten chairs. They pushed everything against the door and window, leaving only the second bed where it was. Using a roll of duct tape from Daryl’s pack, they taped down the edges of the curtains to keep any light from escaping.   
All in all, it was the most secure place they’d stayed in a long time. The only thing that bothered Daryl was the lack of a back exit. There was a small window in the bathroom that they could squeeze through if they had to. Or at least Carol could… She was in there now, fiddling around with something.

The room was growing dim as the sun continued to set. Neither had gotten around to lighting the small oil lantern that sat on the floor between their packs. With a weary sigh, he sat down on the bed and let his head fall into his hands. He’d never say it to Carol, but he was starting to lose hope that they’d ever find the others. The two of them had stayed in the area as much as possible since they’d fled the prison, but still hadn’t seen a single sign of anyone else. 

“Oh my god…” he heard her exclaim.

He was up off the bed in an instant, hand on his pistol. 

He rounded the corner to find her sitting on the lid of the toilet, stripping off her boots. “Water!” she exclaimed, ignoring the look of panic on his face. 

When he realized she was alright, he looked past her to the walk-in shower. There was a surprisingly large stream of not quite clear water coming from the shower head. She stood, her dirty shirt hitting the floor beside her boots. “It’s cold, but I don’t care.” Her jeans and underwear were next, and he got a brief glimpse of her pale backside before she disappeared behind the frosted glass.

She laughed as she tilted her head back beneath the stream. It wasn’t a sound he heard often, but it was one he longed for.

He watched her for a long minute, the way her neck arched back from her sternum, pale and delicate as a swan’s. He had known for a while now what she looked like, felt like… tasted like, and even though they were both exhausted and hungry, that didn’t stop desire from rising in him, raw and desperate. Desire for the feel of his mouth against her pulse point… his teeth against the back of her neck, his hand slick with the evidence of her own desire for him.

It wasn’t long before he slipped in behind her. The water was freezing, but he found he didn’t care either. It had been a long time since they’d had a proper bath, and even longer since they’d been able to let their guard down, even if just for a moment.

Calloused hands came around her waist, and his stubble was scratchy against her skin as his lips pressed to her shoulder. 

“Alright?” he rasped.

She closed her eyes and smiled. “Yeah,” Her hand came up to tangle in his hair.

Soap from one of their bags was lathered beneath the thin stream. He covered his hands with it and ran them over her shoulders and down her lightly muscled arms. Her eyes closed and she leaned back against him, taking his hands in hers and putting them where she wanted them. Moist heat and hard pebbled flesh slid beneath his palms.   
She had become bold, this tiny slip of a woman, and it all at once terrified and thrilled him. The first time they’d ever… Christ… both of them had been seeking comfort and distraction for just a brief, fleeting moment. It had been terrifying and awkward and almost animalistic… 

Her fingers sought him out now, already pressed hard against her. He moaned when they brushed against him. Words weren’t needed as he spun her around and backed her against the wall, lifting her and sinking into her at nearly the same time. She gasped, legs clenching against his hips as he started a deep, strong, rhythm.   
They both needed the release, needed it almost as much as they needed air to breathe. It didn’t take long, running as tightly wound as they were. She gasped her climax against his temple, her nails digging into his scalp and shoulder, just as she heard him groan low in his throat … felt the warm rush of his own release inside her. 

They came down slowly. Her fingers played with the ends of the over-long hair that lay against his nape as he licked water languidly off her collarbone. She smiled lazily as his fingers trailed lightly against the sides of her trembling thighs. 

“Alright?” she whispered, repeating his earlier words.

“Mmm…” He left her clavicle and moved up, lips brushing her jaw before his mouth covered hers. “More than alright.”  
She chuckled. These moments were what kept her going, kept hope alive. That the two of them had found each other, had found some tiny semblance of happiness in the hell the world had become… she knew all was not lost. 

Eventually, they managed to finish their bath. Carol lit the little lamp as Daryl pulled his jeans back on before taking one last peek out the front window. Not a thing in sight. He secured the curtains and turned back to the bed. She was crawling under the covers in just his shirt. Her own clothes lay on top of her pack, ready to be put on at a moment’s notice. 

After making sure their weapons were also within reach, he crawled in next to her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close. He buried his face in her neck, eliciting another laugh as his stubble tickled her.

“’S good,” he chuckled. 

“What is?”

“You laughin’.”

She smiled. “You too.”

She pressed a kiss to his temple as he buried himself deeper in her neck. He wasn’t a ‘cuddler’ by nature. Carol knew that, but Daryl knew she needed it, so he tolerated it. He enjoyed being near her, and found himself lying with her for longer and longer periods of time. When he settled, her fingers moved to his hair again. It touched his shoulders now, and although it was unruly and almost always dirty, she loved it. Right now it was clean, and she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to run her hands through it.

Though he would never say it, the action soothed him. She could tell by the settling of his limbs and the evenness of his breathing. They lay that way for a while before she spoke again. “Daryl?”

“Hmm?” He was very nearly asleep. She hated to bother him, but she had to ask.

“Do you think we’ll find them?”

Arms tightened around her waist. “I hope so. Not gonna stop lookin’, if that’s what yer wonderin’.”

She nodded against him. “I know. I’m just scared.”

There was a long moment of silence before he said, “Me too.”

Tomorrow they would move on, and hopefully they would find their friends, their family. 

If they didn’t… 

That wasn’t something neither liked to think about, but they both knew that no matter what happened, they would keep going. They would always keep searching, hoping, running… 

They would beat this world, with or without the others.

They would survive. 

~FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I've been holding onto for a bit. I'm still around. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
